


Say Anything

by sanyumi



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: (but not a Soulmate AU), Angst, Break Up, Canon, Desperate Sex, Drama, Falling In Love Again, Flowers, Hurt, Longing, M/M, Meeting Again After 10 Years, Oliver has a daughter, Post-Break Up, Soulmates, Tension, book store, needing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanyumi/pseuds/sanyumi
Summary: Connor runs into Oliver again after 10 years of being apart and finds out he's a single dad, recently divorced. Despite better judgement, both men can't stay away from each other, and fall in love all over again, like fucking lunatics.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt request from tumblr that got SERIOUSLY out of hand (I sense a recurring theme...)
> 
> "Connor and Oliver break up, but cross paths a few years later and Oliver is a single dad raising a baby girl. Cue Connor falling in love with Ollie again, along with his daughter."

Connor ducked, nearly tripping and falling to his knees, scrambling to the next row: Philosophy. A woman who’d been leafing through a book eyed him suspiciously, but Connor barely noticed her. He straightened up slowly, fingers crawling up book spines to peer over the shelf.

Oliver was here. It was just Connor’s damn luck to run into the man during his visit back to Philly, in a tiny ass local book shop to boot.

“Excuse me-”

“Shh,” Connor silenced the woman next to him without a glance, dully picking up an irritated huff before she snapped the book shut and walked away.

Oliver was browsing two isles away, head down, oblivious. Connor swallowed, keeping himself eye-level with the tops of the books as he spied. His heart smashed against his rib cage, anxious, excited, nervous, the tips of his fingers prickled.

Salt and pepper looked good on Oliver, but his hair was the same otherwise… still short, slightly curly. Those coke-bottle glasses were back, and instead of showing his age, they made Oliver look so _handsome_ ; smart, wise, experienced, impeccable. From Connor’s vantage point, he watched Oliver grin, turning a book over to read the back.

The book store felt smaller and smaller as Oliver browsed, Connor’s entire attention focused on the other man, whom he hadn’t seen since he graduated from Middleton. Scenarios played out in Connor’s head, wondering if he should say hello… or get the hell out before the other man noticed him. What would he even say? Would Oliver even care to see him? What was he up to these days? Did he still work in IT or had he moved on? Was he-

Connor’s eyes bugged out; Oliver discovered him.

Instead of playing off like he wasn’t staring, Connor stretched to his full height, smiling politely and hoping it didn’t look too manic or forced. Oliver for his part looked… stunned, like he’d seen a ghost. Connor licked his lips, stumbling over nothing while he walked back over to him, attempting to decipher the bewildered smile tugging Oliver’s lips up and up.

“Connor?” Oliver’s voice rang in complete recognition, a touch of disbelief (and… worry?) coloring his tone.

“Hey.” Connor’s heart did a back flip, coming closer to Oliver. He wore jeans and a sweater, the knitted material doing nothing to hide how jacked his arms were. _Holy shit_ someone had been going to the gym.

Connor gasped as those arms enveloped him in a hug before he had time to think about it, warm and safe and kind, like nothing had changed.

Connor returned the gesture after his brain came back to life, crossing his arms around Oliver’s back and squeezing. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting the tension in his body slip away. Oliver made no move to disconnect so Connor held tight, his skin warming as old, but not forgotten, senses came back, feelings of want and care and love. How had he gone this long without an Oliver hug? It was like the older man was pressing him back together and mending whatever cracks had begun.

It felt so familiar and gorgeous, a brief thought of _why did I ever let go in the first place_ crossing Connor’s mind as they pulled apart, but still standing close. Oliver’s hands slid to rest on Connor’s shoulders.

“You lost weight.”

Connor cracked a grin at that, averting his eyes. Of course that would be the first thing Oliver would notice.

“Or you got bigger,” Connor countered. Then to drive the point in the right direction: “Where did these come from?”

As he spoke, Connor lifted his hands to Oliver’s shoulders and down his arms, squeezing his biceps lightly.

Oliver laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling and wiping Connor’s brain clean.

Their hands dropped together, both quietly agreeing to look a little more normal in public. Connor stuffed his hands in his pockets and Oliver stuck his thumbs through his belt loops, shrugging with his elbows as he spoke.

“What are you doing here? Are you back?” Oliver asked, his eyes roaming Connor’s face like he still couldn’t believe he was here, in front of him.

“Ah, ten year reunion. Unofficial. It was Asher’s idea.” Connor nodded along with Oliver, licking his lips. “It’s just for the weekend.”

“Wow, ten years huh?” Oliver spoke softly.

Connor hummed an affirmative, looking down Oliver’s front to avoid his eyes.

They had broken up… almost mutually. At Oliver insistence, they took a break during Connor’s last year of school. They were still “friends” and talked but, Connor had always felt a bitterness about the “break.” Oliver said they needed space, more specifically he needed time alone to grow and rediscover himself… not the exact words Oliver had used, but that was the idea. Oliver wanted to spend time apart to make his own decisions, find his own path, stop following Connor and his friends around.

It annoyed Connor, at first. Wasn’t the point of a relationship to _be_ in each other’s lives? To share friends and discoveries, events and holidays, bad and the good? Being friends with Oliver wasn’t enough for Connor, though Oliver seemed just fine, still smiling, still sharing stories and complaining about work.

So Connor had retaliated by sleeping around again, letting it appear on the outside that he was getting some kind of twisted revenge on Oliver (usually he just went with whatever his friends/classmates wanted to believe, not bothering to defend himself or his actions at all when they called him out on it). But in all honesty, Connor missed the intimacy Oliver used to give. He craved something more than sex, try as he might to fill the empty feeling in his body with it. He wanted what he couldn’t have, so Connor tried replacing it, over and over again… until he had to stop, because suddenly the countless men and meaningless fucks started to remind Connor of his youth and the downward spiral he had been heading in before he met Oliver.

Thankfully he did have enough of a mind to stop sleeping around, for his own mental well being and also because it had been affecting Oliver as well. Maybe deep down Connor did want to hurt Oliver, it was a defense mechanism which Connor defaulted on and he hated that it never seemed to turn off. But he never wanted to hurt Oliver, he never meant to, and he couldn’t stand the silence that came with rubbing his conquests in Oliver’s face. So he stopped, and they patched things up and it was going alright…

But then Oliver did start growing into his own. He got a new job where he was quickly promoted, he made new friends, had plans almost every weekend, and by the time graduation came, had stopped texting Connor nearly altogether. After a full year of being on a “break,” Oliver stood before Connor at graduation, eyes misty, staring deep and startlingly into Connor’s.

They hugged and kissed, but it didn’t mean anything, because Connor told him he had gotten a job in Atlanta and was leaving that month.

They had already grown apart, busy with their own lives, so with only slight apprehension on Connor’s end, he suggested making this “break” a “break up,” and Oliver agreed. There was no point in trying to make it work, they needed to focus on themselves, maybe some time in the future?

Connor had shrugged at that. He honestly didn’t know what would happen next. Oliver had been a staple in his life, an anchor, a beacon of stability and support. Oliver had been everything. The thought of a life without him was actually… terrifying. But Connor needed to grow up. He had kissed Oliver again, this time desperately, achingly, and despite a warning light going on in the back of his head, Connor told Oliver he loved him.

Oliver told him he’d always love him.

They never spoke again.

Until now.

Connor was about to suggest dinner, drinks, going back to his hotel, anything to get Oliver alone and talk with him, catch up, when out of nowhere a small child ran up behind Oliver and hugged his legs, making him jerk in surprise.

“Daddy!”

A wide smile broke out on Oliver’s face, stunning Connor further. “Hey baby, I was just coming to get you.” As Oliver spoke, he bent down and scooped up the girl, resting her on his hip.

She was holding a book, almost smacking Oliver’s face with it as she brought it around his shoulder to show him, her mouth opening to say more but then she noticed Connor and went still, looking at the other man in silence.

Oliver chuckled, obviously amused.

“Connor, this is Tala.” He hefted her up a bit more. “Say hi, Tala.”

She hid her face in Oliver’s neck and Connor felt his heart swell. Which was weird, he never liked kids much. There was something about the way Oliver looked with her, taking the book from her so she could wrap her tiny arms around his neck.

Connor’s lips parted but nothing came out for a while, just watching Oliver fuss with Tala’s smooth black hair and trying to coax her out of her hiding spot.

“You have a daughter?” Connor finally managed. _What else have I missed?_

“She’s usually a big talker, for a near 3 year old…” Oliver sighed, stalling. He tore his eyes from Tala to focus on Connor again, lowering his voice. “Kent isn’t… something to talk about right now. I’m fresh out of a divorce.”

“You got married?” Connor nearly squeaked. _And I never knew?_

Oliver went silent. Tala poked one eye out to study Connor.

Connor looked back at her wide brown-eyed gaze, recognition settling in. She was nearly the spitting image of Oliver. Same brows, same dark brown eyes, same nose… all nestled safe and sound in Oliver’s strong, one-armed hold.

“She’s beautiful, Oliver,” Connor whispered, unconsciously taking a step closer. “Hi, Tala.”

She hid her face again and the men shared a quiet laugh.

“She likes you,” Oliver insisted. “Tala’s only shy around people she likes… she reminds me of you, actually.”

Their eyes met in a flash.

“Wow, that was inappropriate, I didn’t mean it like–” Oliver shook his head, looking up to the ceiling. “I just meant she… is a big talker, normally. Can get anything she wants with just a blink. But, ah–”

“I get it… I’m flattered.” Connor was more than flattered. Something dangerously fond and affectionate swirled in his system, forming a lump in his throat. “Oliver…”

Connor’s voice must’ve betrayed something, or maybe the look in his eyes, whatever it was, Oliver understood. He always understood Connor, always knew what he needed or wanted versus what he said or didn’t say.

“Want to stop by for dinner?”

Connor nodded, hoping he didn’t seem too eager. “I’d love to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this will be the last chapter, guys. For now I'm gonna say it is, only cos I need to focus on my other WIPs. Enjoy! (unedited cos I seriously just sat down and spat this out in two consecutive days in front of my laptop and just want it DONE).
> 
> (Also no, I haven't forgotten about Chase. I do see your comments, everyone. I appreciate how much you enjoy it but I'm only gonna say this one more time: I can't force words. I don't know when the next chapter will happen, but I haven't given up on it [I just don't find it interesting anymore]. Just be patient with me. I'm sorry, but I can't say for certain yet that I wanna drop it... cos I really don't. Thanks for your support and interest! It really means a lot to me!!)

“This is stupid, why am I here?” Connor mumbled to himself, pacing in the elevator. The bouquet of flowers swung around with his arms, brushing his thigh, petals falling to the floor.

What would it accomplish? Say hi, talk about the past ten years like it was nothing, like the years went by so fast and life was just so amazing and Connor was just _so_ successful and everything was _fine_.

Connor jumped when the elevator chimed on the fourth floor. He groaned, aggravated, pulling a hand through his hair over and over to the point where the gel couldn't keep up anymore. He looked at the flowers and dropped them, leaving them in the elevator as he marched out, shaking his head.

Tomorrow was the reunion party with everyone, then Sunday Connor had a flight back to Atlanta, where he would resume his normal, boring, average income life as an attorney. In Georgia. What was the point? Why bother trying to reconnect with an old flame, let alone Oliver, whom Connor could admit by now was a significant person in his life. Someone who actually influenced and helped Connor grow into who he is today, helped shape and refine him more than any therapist or drugs could.

“Shit,” Connor hissed, running back to the elevator, sighing when the doors opened immediately and swiped the flowers from the floor, a mix of carnations and sweat peas, more for the way they looked than their meaning, which Connor didn't bother checking. Not that it mattered anyway. Though Connor actually wanted to get Oliver roses but _knew_ that Oliver would read into it too much because that's just what Oliver _did_ and now he was freaking out again.

It would be fine. Connor knocked on the door. It would be okay. He brought his hands behind his back, hiding the flowers.

Oliver answered the door, wearing the same sweater from this afternoon but instead of jeans he wore sweatpants, and he was smiling.

The laugh lines around Oliver's mouth were so deeply set in, making his smile all the more wide, more warm and welcoming. Connor had the insane urge to touch Oliver's face, feel the lines up from his jaw to his cheeks, eyes and forehead. Just memorize the way Oliver was now, so refined and beautiful, and keep it locked away forever.

“Hey,” Oliver spoke, his lips settling into a line, still smiling though.

Connor nodded, hoping he didn't look as breathless as he felt. “Hi.”

“Come in, dinner's almost ready.” He turned from the door, leaving it for Connor to close. Which he did, stepping into the apartment and inhaling a mouth-watering aroma, something spicy and buttery. Toeing off his shoes and hanging up his jacket, Connor noticed Tala sitting on the floor in the living room, bouncing to a cartoon playing on TV.

“What's for dinner?” Connor tried to sound casual, turning a corner and finding Oliver in the kitchen, taking out a bottle of sparkling grape juice.

“Homemade mac 'n cheese with Italian sausage...” Oliver poured the juice into two separate wine glasses. “But if Tala asks, it's just mac 'n cheese with hot dogs.” He level Connor with a look that read, _kids_.

Connor grinned. “Smells amazing.”

“Wait 'til you try it.” He capped the sparkling juice. “I make a mean mac 'n cheese.”

This time Connor laughed. “I don't doubt it.” He pulled the bouquet from behind him as Oliver took his first sip, amused at the way his eyes widened behind the glass.

“Got this for you...” Connor spoke, horrified at how meek he sounded. He straightened up and raised his voice. “I don't know why, I just thought- they're nice and it's been a while so- uh...”

“Thanks, Connor,” Oliver was in front of him in an instant, smiling again. He took the flowers, paper and leaves crinkling together during the exchange. “They are... nice.”

Connor nodded, looking to the floor as Oliver turned around to find something to put them in.

 _Nice_.

Dinner was much more calming. They ate in the living room, on the floor using the coffee table as a dining table. It was odd, Connor's legs were starting to cramp, crossing and uncrossing them, stretching them out. Tala giggled at his obvious discomfort, perfectly content to crouch on her knees while she ate her food, noodle by noodle.

It really was delicious though. Oliver had made a crust to go over top which gave every other bite a savory crunch and the diced sausages inside were seasoned to compliment the cheese and it was all very... homey. Oliver asked Tala about pre-school and Tala, not being shy now, excitedly went on about her finger painting exercises, the songs and rhymes she learned, the new animal they discovered.

“It was a hippo!” She exclaimed, standing up and quickly grabbing a book from the couch to show it to Connor. “Look! Did'ya know hippos hold their breaths underwater for _five minutes?_ ” She looked so shocked. Connor found himself mirroring her expression. Countless playtime with his nephews taught Connor to share in the joy and excitement with children.

“That's amazing, I did not know that.” Connor smiled, taking rapid interest in the pictures Tala presented, flipping the pages of the book too fast to comprehend.

“She's been practicing,” Oliver chimed in, meeting Connor's eyes. “How long can you hold your breath for now, sweetie?”

“One hundred seconds!”

Oliver leaned over just as Connor made a flabbergasted face, whispering in his ear. “She can't count that high yet.”

They shared a quiet laugh.

Tala went on, talking between mouthfuls of food (which Oliver reprimanded her a few times about, “ _Chew your food, sweetie... Don't talk with your mouth full..._ ”) By the time dessert was finished, Connor realized he was having a blast. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled this much, or was this engaged in anything, even his case work had turned into dull, repetitive papers and forms and nodding along to bullshit clients. And then coming home to an empty apartment, heating up frozen dinners or pizza, sitting alone at the table while continuing to flip through paper work was... beyond lonely.

Connor still tried, of course, to be social. He had a few new friends, went to bars and brought guys home when he was bored... he hadn't bothered trying a relationship again. Though Oliver had been great, amazing, pivotal... the fact that they weren't together, right now, further proved Connor's theory that love was destined to always fail. It wasn't worth the energy, the heart break.

So Connor wondered why, again, he was here. All of this, Oliver, Tala, the feeling of being in a family, would be another sad memory to look back on and further beat himself up about.

“You alright?”

Connor looked over at Oliver, washing a dirty plate with his attention on him. Connor looked back to the dish in his hands, wrapped in a towel.

“Yeah,” he said, giving the plate one last swipe and putting it away.

Oliver smiled timidly. “You zoned out there for a second.”

Connor tried to smile, but it felt fake. He wasn't putting much effort into it.

“Just thinking about, ah, this case I'm starting next week.”

“So you did become a lawyer.” Oliver grinned. Connor scoffed, throwing Oliver a playful glare. He had started out as an associate, climbing and clawing his way up through the ranks until he had his own office with his own plaque and his own business card. It wasn't satisfying enough, but he wouldn't tell Oliver that.

“You didn't think I could do it?”

“I didn't say that.” Oliver passed him the plate to dry, fingers still a little soapy.

Connor stared at Oliver's hands while he lazily dried off the plate, mesmerized by his long fingers, how they squeezed around the sponge and how his knuckles moved. Connor wondered if his hands felt the same, if his skin was still dry, but not rough.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Connor slid his fingers around Oliver's when he passed him a wet cup. He sensed Oliver look over at him while he was still watching their fingers, finally touching after all these years, slippery and soft.

Connor lifted his lashes, heart hammering in his chest at the look in Oliver's eyes, reflecting something like ache and trepidation.

“... Sorry.” But Connor didn't take his hand back.

“No, it's...” Oliver shut his eyes, sighing. He opened them again. “Con-”

“Hey, mister Connah!”

They both jumped apart, the cup falling from their hands and plunking back down into the sink full of water.

“Tala--” Oliver shut the water off, looking down at his daughter. “What did I say about sneaking up on people?”

She stared silently at her father, eyes wide and innocent. Connor bit down a grin.

“Sorry daddy, I just wanted mister Connah to help me with my house.” She tugged on Connor's pant leg as she spoke, looking up at him.

Connor looked to Oliver, unsure what to do. Oliver's mouth was open, looking from Connor to Tala before closing his eyes and sighing harshly.

Connor swallowed. He wanted to know what Oliver had to say, but maybe a moment alone would be good for him.

“I'll play with you, Tala,” Connor said quickly, dropping the towel on the counter. “Leave your dad alone to do all the boring adult stuff.”

“Boring!” Tala sang in agreement, taking Connor's hand and dragging him away. Connor threw a look over his shoulder and found Oliver leaned back against the sink, giving Connor a funny look of his own.

Connor tried not to decipher that lingering gaze Oliver gave him, while he helped Tala color large pieces of cardboard and tape them together to build... what he could only assume was a fire house. She went on about Papa being a firefighter and the stories he would tell her and Connor went quiet, robotically helping her decorate. Oliver obviously wasn't a firefighter.

After an hour of that, Oliver came to his rescue, telling his daughter it was time for bed. Connor left, settling himself on the couch, bringing his knees up to cross his arms around them.

Oliver took his time tucking Tala in. Connor listened to him make her brush her teeth and help change her into her PJs before he heard his voice lower and become quiet, telling a story it sounded like. It was crazy... Oliver was a _dad_. He had a daughter whom he fed and dressed and read bed time stories to. Connor wondered what he was like on her first day of school, her first doctor's appointment, when she was born... they must've had a surrogate mother. Tala looked too much like Oliver to be adopted. Also, Connor had a feeling that's the way Oliver would do it, given the decision.

Connor wondered if Tala... had any of the other guy's DNA. What was his name? He recalled Oliver mentioning it in the bookstore... Mr. Firefighter. Whatever.

The soft click of a door closing and soft footsteps tickled Connor's ears. Turning his head, he watched Oliver come around the couch, sitting next to Connor with a sigh.

“She probably won't be sleeping for another hour,” he whispered. “But at least she doesn't make a fuss about it.”

Connor stared at Oliver's profile. He wasn't sure how he managed to become infatuated with Oliver all over again, when he brain had been shouting the whole time _no, no, NO!_

“She's way too smart, Oliver,” Connor spoke softly, getting said man to swing his head to meet Connor's eyes. “She's gonna be the next president.”

Oliver gave a small smile, leaning his head back against the couch.

“She's making me grow old,” Oliver half-joked, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't start getting grey hairs until she was born.”

“It looks good on you though.”

Oliver sighed again, that same aching look flashing over his eyes as he stared at Connor.

“I shouldn't have brought you here,” Oliver murmured, eyes falling. “I don't need Tala getting any... ideas.”

Connor licked his lips, also looking away. Oliver had a point. The mind of a child was nearly predictable in these situations... he wondered if Tala had said anything while Oliver was in there.

“She still asks why Kent can't stay anymore... she really misses him.”

Connor looked back up, steeling himself as he tread into uncertain territory.

“He visits?”

Oliver nodded. “Twice a week. I got full custody only because my job is more stable and predictable.”

A silence fell between them, making Connor pick at the seams of the pillow squished between his knees and chest. There was a lot he wanted to ask. About this Kent, why it ended, how long had they been married, how they met, how long after Connor left did Oliver start dating again... but instead he asked:

“Why didn't you tell me you got married?”

His voice was quiet and soft, almost melancholy. He sensed Oliver's eyes on him but kept his gaze on the pillow.

Another quiet filled the space between them. Connor felt his leg start to shake before Oliver finally answered him.

“I don't know... I figured you were too busy or not interested--”

“Why would I not be interested in-- _Jesus_ , Oliver.” Connor snapped, interrupting him. Oliver's brows narrowed, glaring at Connor, who stared back, mouth set in a firm line.

“If I had sent you an invitation, would you have even come?” Oliver seethed in a low voice that was also thick with sadness.

Connor flinched back, looking away again. “... No. It would have killed me.”

He peeked back, noticing Oliver's eyes soften minutely. “Connor...”

“It's really stupid, I know,” Connor threw a hand up between them, pushing away any pity. “I thought I'd grow out of this years ago, but you're still all I think about and it drives me _insane_.” He ran that hand through his hair, grabbing onto it and pulling hard.

Oliver took his hand, surrounding both of his over it. Connor's eyes squeezed shut, but he couldn't move his hand from Oliver's.

“Remember when I said... that I'd always love you?”

Connor exhaled, blinking his eyes open and looking over at Oliver's honest, wistful gaze. He nodded.

Oliver took a shaky breath. “That's why I couldn't invite you. If you had shown up, I knew I wouldn't have married Kent.”

Connor's heart stuttered, lips parting but nothing coming out.

“You're it for me, Connor. You always have been...”

“Why is this just coming out now?” Connor asked tiredly.

“I could ask you the same question.”

They were both guilty, Connor realized. They never said a word to each other since Connor left... a “like” on FaceBook was usually their only interaction, though Connor hadn't touched his FaceBook account in years. That would explain how he never even knew about Oliver's marriage. He wondered if Oliver still spoke with Michaela and the gang, if he'd told them to keep the news a secret from him, or if he even spoke to them anymore either.

It was just hard, trying to connect with Oliver. Connor lost count of the times he would pick up his phone and stare at Oliver's contact information, thinking about it... before deciding against it. He never could bring himself to text or call Oliver... not even to wish him a happy birthday or merry Christmas or anything. Because that one text, no matter how small or cordial, would lead to something personal; Connor pouring his heart out, telling Oliver how much he missed him, asking about Oliver's life...

Trying to get over Oliver was easier with zero contact, or so Connor had hoped. Instead it just made the distance between them, the isolation, so much worse.

Connor could only figure Oliver had the same idea, the same reasons for staying out of reach. Especially after he got married. _Hell_ , now Connor needed to know _why_.

“Why did you get a divorce?”

Oliver scoffed, taking his glasses off and running a hand down his face, the other still wrapped around Connor's hand giving a squeeze.

“Kent was great... amazing,” Oliver sighed, watching their hands linked together. “He was actually, probably perfect.”

Connor's blood ran cold with both jealousy and guilt. He had a feeling where this was going. Kent was super supportive of Oliver's positive status, he even convinced Oliver to see another doctor, someone more prestigious, more advanced in their field, insisting on paying for half of the bills. It wasn't necessary, Oliver said, his CD4 count was stable with his current medication. But with the new doctor his T-cells actually increased and Oliver was physically noticing the difference in his day-to-day life...

Kent was a romantic, though he liked to put his job first, Oliver understood. He always made up overnights and call-ins with lavish dinners and dates that Connor knew Oliver was a sucker for. When he wanted a kid Oliver had automatically said yes, but only because he thought that was naturally the next step.

When in reality, the whole time-- four years of dating, five years of marriage-- Oliver had this unbearable hole in his psyche; there was something missing, something not right. He should have been happy, but some nights Oliver couldn't sleep, couldn't look Kent in the eyes when they had sex, would zone out during those perfect dinner dates.

“I knew all along it was you-- _fucking_ \-- _you_.” Oliver breathed sharply, shutting his eyes. Connor swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I hated it. I did love Kent, but it wasn't like it was with you. And I didn't know how to make it go away. That's why I never attempted to call or reconnect or anything. I thought you would just go away but _shit_... you didn't and I don't get it.” Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose, fanning his fingers out to rub his eyes.

“I couldn't drag Kent through it anymore, so I told him everything.” His hand landed on his thigh with a slap. “Because he wouldn't let me go with my simple 'it's just not working out,' because it was working, on the outside... he deserved the truth.

“We finally got everything settled a couple months ago. I don't feel any better... but at least I have Tala...” Oliver finished, voice quieter, thicker, then when he started.

Connor sat, stunned silent. He of course had his own version of the same story, but he never actually tried moving on. He just allowed his career to swallow him up and trap him inside an antisocial bubble.

“What do we do now?” Connor asked, hesitant. Because he had a life, however minuscule, back in Atlanta. He couldn't just up and leave... and Oliver had Tala, and an ex-husband that visited twice a week. What could they do? It was too late, life didn't slow down... and Connor didn't even know if he wanted to try this with Oliver again.

No matter how much his lungs tightened at the thought.

Oliver finally met his eyes again, shiny, a storm of emotions swirling behind those dark irises.

Panic made Connor's heart thump, but desire coursed through his veins from it. He took the pillow from his lap, leaning over so he was closer to Oliver, who gasped before shaking his head with a whine, leaning away.

“What do you want, Oliver? I- I'll do anything.” Connor whispered, frantic, chasing Oliver.

“Connor...” Oliver pleaded, for what neither of them knew.

Nearly losing it himself, Connor took Oliver's face between his hands, running his thumbs underneath Oliver's eyes, wiping away tears that had begun to fall.

“What do you need?” Connor's lips were inches from Oliver's, breathing over them.

Oliver's lips parted to speak, but they only stare at each other. Connor leaned in a touch more, so their noses brushed, his voice small.

“Ollie, please...”

With a muttered curse, Oliver pushes forward, crushing his lips against Connor's desperately. The sensation of finally touching, feeling, lips caressing after so long made Connor's head spin, deliriously kissing back with a drawn out groan.

His fingers press roughly into the nape of Oliver's neck, pulling him so Oliver was upright again, their chests flush against one another as Oliver's arms wound around Connor's neck to keep them together. Their lips synced up like they've been doing this forever, parting at the same time so their tongues slid together erotically, sucking in each other's air.

The kiss between them accelerates, hot and wet and loud, starving for contact, achingly forceful, and Connor can't get enough.

“I need you--” Oliver sounds like he's breaking apart, voice shaky, words muffled against Connor's mouth. “ _God_ , Connor, I need--”

Connor cuts him off with another bruising kiss, their teeth clacking together, making Oliver whine.

Connor's hands move, feeling everywhere, down Oliver's neck, shoulders, chest, before reaching the hem of his sweater and slipping his hands underneath, reintroducing himself to Oliver's warm skin. As he moves up to Oliver's chest, hiking the sweater up, Oliver pulls back to pull the damn thing over his head and onto the floor, yanking Connor back in for a breathtaking kiss while Connor continues touching him all over, exploring and memorizing new dips and curves.

It's dizzying, being this close to Oliver again. It feels so good but hurts at the same time, and Connor clings, holding on while his mouth works against Oliver's because he feels like the moment they stop it'll all be over. Like being even an inch apart now would destroy him. He wants Oliver surrounding him, suffocating him, _inside_ him, claiming him. He wants him _now_.

“ _Bedroom_ ,” Connor moans in Oliver's mouth, forcing his head away and down Oliver's neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. “Now, please.” He bites and licks a pulse point at Oliver's neck and hears his breath hitch, hot against his ear.

“Hold on,” Oliver grunts, arms wrapping around Connor and moving him to straddle Oliver's lap before he shifts to stand up.

Connor's legs wrap around Oliver's hips as he lifts him like he weighs nothing, hands on his ass slowly sliding up Connor's back for a more secure hold, lips back on each other.

Connor can't remember the last time his heart raced this fast, can't recall anyone besides Oliver ever holding him like this, like he'd never let go, like he'd take care of him, make Connor feel good and special and loved. It's terrifying, in a way that makes Connor want to push the limit, take this as far as it will go; it's addicting.

A hand leaves Connor's back as Oliver awkwardly closes the door behind him before slowly lowering Connor onto the bed, following him down with one arm braced on the mattress. Connor kept their lips together the entire way down, hands on Oliver's neck and legs locked around his waist.

Once Connor's back touched the plush comforters, Oliver's other arm slipped out from behind him and fully bridged himself over the younger man, thrusting down once, grinding against Connor's groin and collapsing onto his elbows from the pleasure, moaning.

Connor's head fell back, gasping for air. Oliver was panting above him, chest heaving, moving his head down and kissing Connor through the button down shirt, searching with his lips and tongue for a nipple and latching on when he found it, sucking hard while pressing his tongue against the fabric. Connor arched below him, smacking a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry.

Oliver bit the perked nub gently, Connor's delicious muffled sounds encouraging Oliver lower, his hands massaging down Connor's sides and up his thighs, taking his knees and pushing them apart, unhooking Connor from Oliver's hips.

“Oh God, Ollie...” Connor begged softly, hand still over his mouth. Oliver's hands worked quickly on Connor's pants, loosening them enough to slip his fingers underneath and pull them down, taking Connor's underwear along, all the way to his feet and onto the floor.

When Oliver straightened out, standing over the bed, Connor was sitting up, finishing up on the last button and pulling the dress shirt off. The room was nearly pitch black, illuminated only by the moonlight coming in through the blinds, yet their eyes never left each other while Connor tugged his undershirt over his head and Oliver removed his sweats, stepping out of them and crawling onto the bed, following Connor as he scooted back.

Connor reached for Oliver, hands around his back, feeling the way he moved, how his muscles worked, how smooth his skin was. He wanted to see it, he craved Oliver's body like a drug and now that he'd had a taste, his blood raced for more, putting him in a daze.

Oliver turned away, Connor had to reach to keep contact, but then a lamp switched on and Connor saw everything.

Above him, Oliver's skin glowed in the soft light, completely provocative and alluring. Oliver was staring at Connor too, eyes raking up and down his front, leaning back, straddling Connor's thighs to catch every detail, fingers tracing along as he studied every line and muscle. Connor stared at their cocks, achingly hard and heavy between them. He looked back up with an amused grin, catching Oliver's cocked eyebrow.

“See something you like?” Oliver spoke softly, leaning down again, teasingly moving his hips against Connor's, who's jaw dropped silently. Oliver's eyes were still a little red from moments earlier, but he could still manage to flirt. It elated Connor in a strange, tender way.

Connor tried smirking, but sure it didn't hold the same charm as it used to. “Come here...”

His hands caressed up Oliver's chest to surround his face as Oliver descended even lower, holding him at eye level, lips brushing.

“You want to do this?” Connor whispered, he had to be sure. He still didn't know if this was right, but Connor couldn't stop even if he wanted to, even if being with Oliver right now meant death. He couldn't control himself when the one thing he dreamed about, _ached_ for, was finally here. But if Oliver said no... just gave the word, Connor would stop. He could live with walking away right now, before they both did something they _knew_ they'd regret.

Oliver's gaze became fierce, determined. He understood this was wrong, but they were both too weak to stop, too selfish to think about the ramifications. Right now Connor's heart controlled his actions, while his brain screamed at him to stop.

A hand took Connor's away from Oliver's face, lacing their fingers together tightly against the pillow.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed. And they were moving again, kissing deeply, slowly, tongues lazily playing along to the way their bodies moved against one another.

Slowing down from hot, desperate kisses, blind with pleasure, was almost maddening... in an intimate, erotic way. The way Connor lifted his hips to meet Oliver's gentle thrusts, forcing himself to take his time feeling and appreciating Oliver on top of him, made his stomach twist and his heart light.

As Oliver took his other hand, holding both fiercely on either side of Connor's head, he knew he was falling in love again. And it was pure torture, especially with Oliver's eyes locked onto his own, revealing everything he felt, foreheads slipping together, jaws slack.

“Ollie...” Connor nearly sobbed, his fingers trapped between Oliver's gripping to the point of pain.

Oliver lowered himself so every inch covered Connor, trapping their leaking cocks together, frotting harder and faster. Connor cried out, gritting his teeth, shutting his eyes while Oliver's mouth attacked his own again.

“We need to be quiet,” Oliver gasped, biting Connor's lip.

Connor whined pathetically, keeping his lips shut.

“I need you... inside me,” Connor keened, raising his knees and locking them around Oliver's sides. His hands struggled again under Oliver's. “Please let me touch you.”

“Only if you promise to not make a sound.” As he said this, Oliver released Connor's hands, which were instantly back on Oliver, refamiliarizing himself with his body, unable to stop touching everywhere. He grabbed Oliver's ass, much more toned and round than he remembered, squeezing and pulling him down for a few more mind erasing thrusts, teasing both of them before finally letting Oliver blindly open the drawer to his night stand, grabbing lube and a condom.

* * *

Oliver always had this way of having sex with Connor that was somewhere between carnal fucking and grossly intimate love making that always made Connor wonder if that was what having an “out of body” experience felt like. The way Oliver moved inside him, touched him, moaned his name felt like worship and Connor's responsive babbling and muffled screams were some unholy tribute to Oliver's perfection.

It must've been hours before both men finally couldn't move anymore, sweat soaked and sticky with cum, curled up under a blanket, melded into each other, naked, breathless and searing. All they could manage was brushing fingers through messy, wet hair, tiredly fondling each other.

Connor belonged to Oliver again, he had willingly given himself, body and soul, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

“Don't fall asleep...” Oliver mumbled, exhausted, eyes half-lidded. He had his arms wrapped around Connor, holding on weakly, fronts slotted together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“I'm trying.” Connor managed to crack a grin, fingers tiredly combing Oliver's thin hair. Two orgasms each and they both wanted to pass out forever. An annoying thought came to Connor that they were getting too old for this.

They kissed again, bruised lips pressing softly.

“Don't let me go...”

“I wont,” Connor whispered, fingers tightening in Oliver's hair.

When Oliver spoke again, after a long silence, his voice sounded thick, cracking in the darkness.

“Don't leave me.”

Connor's heart broke, his eyes prickling. His hands fell around Oliver's face, pulling him in for a harsh kiss that snapped something in Oliver, making him sob.

Connor couldn't say anything.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how many of you follow me on tumblr, but a while ago i got an anon asking me to at least give an headcanon on what could happen to them and... i caved and spat this out. it's not really a substantial ending, but it's exactly a headcanon lol. hope you guys enjoy it :)

So, Connor would go back home, to Atlanta, after all that. But Oliver and him actually keep up communication this time. They aren’t trying to make it work, they’re just being friends, and somehow staying in contact with Oliver with this mindset really helps Connor. Though there is this obvious lack of energy to respond much… Connor blames it on backed up cases, Oliver blames it on his own job and the complexities of fatherhood.

But if he’s being honest with himself, Connor knows he’s just afraid of slipping up and lamenting over how much he misses Oliver. His smile, his glasses, the way his fingers fly over a keyboard, or how the last time they met was the best sex of his life.

He instead asks about Tala. And Oliver finally admits that sometimes she wonders where “Connah” had gone.

Then comes the Skype chats. A rare occasion turns into a almost weekly video chat with Connor, the purple under his eyes more pronounced in the laptop light, and Oliver with Tala pushing her way into the frame.

Suddenly Connor is there for school stories, her first sleepover, and Tala’s birthday (she got to stay up extra late for that one). Until one fateful night, after about half a year of this going on, Tala is getting sleepy so Connor tells her, 

“Night, babe.”

Tala, of course, thinks nothing of it. She just turned 3.

Oliver is silent when he disconnects the video, and Connor swallows, his heart beating fast. A few minutes later, he gets a phone call.

 _“Don’t call her ‘babe.’“_  Oliver’s voice is a harsh whisper.

“I-I’m sorry,” Connor stammers, rolling over in bed and standing up to pace. “It was just-”

_“You’re not in any position to call my daughter ‘babe.’ She’s mine, not yours.”_

“You’re right.” Connor pulls a hand through his hair. It’s starting to thin, not that he’s noticing that right now. “It just slipped out, it won’t happen again…”

He couldn’t tell Oliver how attached to Tala he’d gotten. How eager he was now to talk, not only to Oliver, but to his daughter too. How every time she smiled, Connor did too, even if he’d only survived on 3 hours of sleep and coffee. How she was the spitting image of Oliver when she laughed, eyes closed and the corner of her lips nearly touching her eyes.

How, she continued to call Connor “Connah,” just out of spite, as both Oliver and Connor had tried patiently correcting her.

She was Oliver’s daughter, but that didn’t mean Connor couldn’t feel protective and caring of her too.

The remainder of the year flies by and Oliver has cut back on the Skype calls, personal talk, and on general contact, period. Until December arrives and Connor realizes they’ve never tried discussing their relationship status. Connor understood it was dangerous territory, but knew Oliver was the kind of guy to be forward about it, if he had found someone new.

He also never spoke of Kent again, Connor wondered if he still made regular visits. He wondered… if Tala asked about him.

To wrap this up, Connor decides to visit for New Years (he knew it would be pushing it to visit on Christmas). Where he tells Oliver his mind is made up. If Oliver wants to try and make this work between them, Connor is ready and willing to quit his job right now, and move back to Philly to be with him and Tala. He pours his soul out, it’s probably the most emotional he’s ever been… all while speaking in a rushed whisper that conveys hurt and guilt and sincerity and  _love_.

It’s gut wrenching when Oliver pushes him away, mumbling a “be serious,” before the ball drops and Tala is prancing in the living room, throwing confetti and celebrating the new year.

Then a few weeks later, while Connor is busying prepping a new client, he gets a text from Oliver:

 _Sure_.

And that’s how they all end up moving to California. Boom.


End file.
